


I Know You Will Forgive Me For My Honesty

by MooseFeels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, not quite sexy/smutty, sleepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a shitty day, Dean is self employed, so he goes back to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know You Will Forgive Me For My Honesty

            It was grey and raining, the kind of day that dripped. Business had been slow, and Dean had consigned himself to waiting at the register perched atop a stool, reading a magazine.

            He'd woken up in the dark, and the sun had never really seemed to come up all the way.  He'd also woken up with a headache, and no amount of hot shower or coffee or aspirin seemed to make it disappear.

            "Stay," his...his whatever had whispered to him from the blankets. "Don't leave." His voice had been husky and sleepy in Dean's ear.

            What they were to each other, he couldn't quite parse. Too grounded in reality to be lovers, too affectionate to be mere fuck-partners.

            "Boyfriend," Sam, his brother had suggested to him. "The word you are looking for is 'boyfriend.'"

            Something about that word made Dean very uncomfortable.

            He'd been very nearly tempted to stay, entangled in his lean limbs.

            Castiel had wandered into the record store one afternoon in the summer, and the attraction had been instantaneous and dangerous. It was like something from a particular class of romantic comedy- they'd had polite conversation, the song had changed from something by The Ramones to something by Otis Redding, and soon they couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

            Castiel was smart and funny and beautiful. Not handsome, no, beautiful. Also, significantly richer than Dean, whose check from the navy had enabled him to buy the record shop after his medical discharge but not much else.

            Dean never went to Castiel's place; Castiel always came to him. His toothbrush and some of his clothes lived at Dean's place. Castiel ate there sometimes. Some of his magazines came to Dean. They had not, Dean insisted, moved in together.

            His leg ached in the rain.

            He made it to one o'clock before another hour ticked by without a customer, and he shut up the shop, took the quick drive home, and climbed upstairs to his apartment.

            None of the lights were on, everything lit by the weak rain-light. The small space smelled of sleep and stale coffee.

            He kicked off his shoes, walked out of his pants, and strode into his bedroom.

Castiel opened his eyes slowly, and they caught the light slightly. "I told you to stay," he whispered.

            Dean eased into bed, the covers warm over his legs, Castiel's toes cold against his shins. "I know," he murmured. "I should really learn to listen to you."

            Castiel stretched out like a cat and embraced Dean. "Sweeter words have never been said, I promise you," he replied. His mouth was warm and wet against his neck, leaving little round bruises and bites where he kissed Dean.

            Castiel was a journalist. Free lance for a series of bizarre, independent food magazines. He more than made up for what Dean lacked in the kitchen. Sure, Dean could throw together a dinner, but Castiel made ethereal biscuits, gorgeous sauces, perfect roasts, divine sauces. The kind of pies that would canonize him if he were still religious. Dean was not exactly sure when he did this work, because when he wasn't at the record shop with Dean or at the market or in the actual kitchen, he seemed to be in Dean's bed, making it inviting and warm.

            Castiel tugged Dean's shirt off and began to occupy his restless mouth with Dean's nipples.

            "Oh, Jesus," Dean moaned.

            "Gotta reward you," Castiel said between fraught moments. "Positive reinforcement for coming back to bed."

            Dean smiled. "Look at you, using your college learning."

            Dean had gotten his GED. Had never even applied to college, much less attended. Castiel, on the other hand, had been Ivy League for a couple semesters before he dropped out and started writing.

            "College learning doesn't mean dick, honey," Castiel answered. He moved upward and kissed Dean on his mouth.

            "I love you," Dean said.

            "I know," Castiel answered.

           


End file.
